


Through Dusk and Dawn

by backwards_silver



Category: Homeland
Genre: 5x12 re imagined slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwards_silver/pseuds/backwards_silver
Summary: Carrie storming into the hospital looking for Quinn after Jonas breaks up with her, except this time he's actually there, hasn't had a stroke, and she has some long-overdue realizations.
Relationships: Carrie Mathison & Peter Quinn, Carrie Mathison/Peter Quinn
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Through Dusk and Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> WHY didn't we see a scene of Quinn waking up? I would have loved that so much. This is my version of how I wish season 5 had ended, setting up Quinn/Carrie for a better season 6.

Carrie walked into the hospital in a fast panic, her thoughts were twisted everywhere, nerves frayed at the seams. She was clenching her fists, on the edge of tears. It was a nightmare, all of it. The last two weeks of her life. Especially the last day. The near-death she could have had in the Hauptbahnhof, Qasim dying in her arms. And then, finally, freedom. It was all over. She could rest. She was safe. And she'd come back to the place she'd called _home_. The person she called home. The man she trusted, had built a beautiful life with. And the second he'd learned she was safe he berated her for fucking _risking her life_ to save thousands. Going on about how he couldn't live with that uncertainty, wouldn't have his kids live near it either. _His kids._ Like her and Frannie were just alien species that somehow survived the odds and wouldn't be affected by this hellish life she had. Like she didn't sacrifice a single thing of her own in order to protect the safety of a country that wasn't even her own. He was so fucking blind to it all, this life, this world. He thought it was foolish, crazy. He thought _she_ was crazy. 

The horribly calloused words Jonas had said to her, like their entire relationship was all some hare-brained idea that was a complete mistake. Like she’d never mattered to him even a little bit. She thought their life had been so perfect, until all of this. Until the darkness and craziness of her old life showed up and he couldn’t handle it, not even a little bit. She was cracking inside, so much, nearly coming apart. She brushed past the hospital staff with determination, trying not to cry, trying not to scream. How could she have been so blind this entire time? Convincing herself that Jonas was in love with her as much as she loved him, that he’d do anything for her, that the idyllic existence they'd carved out in Berlin was something he'd fight for. That he'd fight for _her._ But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t, it was all just a facade, a pretend life they’d lived together for so many charming months. All cracked and shattered at the first rearing of the ugly head of her past life.

And now Quinn, the one person who’d had her back no matter what, was lying in a hospital dying and she was half to blame for it. He would’ve never left her like this, especially not now, not when she needed it the most. He would’ve done anything for her, he would have died for her and nearly did. And it almost cost him his life, in the end. No, it wouldn’t do. She wasn’t about to let him slip away too, dammit. She’d taken advantage of his devotion to her so many times and now it’d cost her.

He was crazy in his devotion to her, to this life. She was seeing for the first time that he’d been one of the only people to truly be on her side, looking out for her the entire time he’d known her. Deep down she thought she even trusted him more than Saul. She wondered, if the roles were reversed between them, would he have woken her up? She wanted to believe that he would’ve, but she didn’t even believe that fully. He would’ve been trying to protect her at all costs, he would’ve put her life above the mission, above his own. Fuck, was she not even concerned for his safety? She’d left him for dead for nine fucking days before looking for him, and he’d gotten gassed to near-death because of it. Then she’d come here, seen him in his state and still gone ahead with waking him up, for information they couldn’t even know that he had. She felt sick thinking about the look in his eyes when they’d woken him, how he came to consciousness purely at the sound of her voice, the desperate look on his face when she’d tried to get him to talk, eyes wild like a scared animal, like he couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on. He looked so freaking terrified, confused, and it broke her inside. _She did that._ She did it to him.

And then she went home, had blissful reunion sex with Jonas, which she saw in hindsight was actually _goodbye_ sex for him. Breakup sex. It disgusted her, the way she'd let herself be played by him. The way she'd opened and up let herself be loved. Dared to believe it could be real and it could last. That even when they went through the trenches of hell he'd be right by her side and they'd come back in the end, back to this little piece of _normal._ With her and Frannie and Jonas all tucked away into safety again. And they _could have._

Her breaths were coming in shaky half-sobs when she finally reached his room, nearly collapsing into the chair beside Quinn's bed. Her hands were trembling as she reached for his hand, she was overwhelmed with relief. He was still here, still alive, she hadn’t killed him. He wasn’t leaving her, not yet, anyway. She squeezed his hand so hard it probably hurt, but she needed this, his skin under her hands. Tangible, real proof that he wasn't gone yet. He kept fucking running, every time she got close he was gone again. And she'd told herself it wasn't important. He'd told her too, it didn't matter anymore. That was all in the past, they were too different now, too much water under the bridge. But it was another lie. It _did_ matter. It would _always_ matter. Because right now, he was here and Jonas wasn't. He'd been by her side when she needed it, when no one else had been. And she could keep pushing him away, afraid of what might happen if they got too close, but the truth was that every time she found him again she remembered why she couldn't lose him. 

She gasped when his eyelids fluttered slightly, before opening just enough for her to know it wasn't just a twitch. He tried to turn his head but only managed a minuscule movement. It was enough, he could see her. "Hey,” She whispered, tears in her voice, shaken to the core. She couldn’t believe it, he was awake. He was awake and he recognized her, she could see it in his eyes. The half-lidded gaze he had on his face was so tired and vulnerable it hurt to see. But there was tenderness in his gaze, too, he looked almost peaceful, so soft, so calm, she’d never seen him so unguarded. He couldn’t protect himself if he tried, yet somehow he was still stronger than her.

Tears were spilling down her face now, and she covered his hand with both of hers, clutching it as tightly as she could without hurting him. “Carrie.” He whispered. His voice was gravelly and raw, barely there, but she strained for it and she could hear it. That same voice all along, the one that had told her countless times to stay out of harm’s way, to not jump in feet-first recklessly, the one that asked her so many times how she was doing, if she was okay. The one that stopped her from killing Saul, from throwing away her motherhood. The voice that told her they could get out together. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Oh god, Quinn.” She choked out a sob and collapsed onto his hand, crying harder than she had in weeks.

She kept seeing the horrid video over and over again, Quinn dying in front of her eyes, such a terrible way to go out, long and painful suffering prolonging death till the end. Yet somehow, he’d fought through like he always did. And he was here now, with her, again. Somehow, they kept finding each other again and again. But she’d nearly lost him for good this time. Not just from the gas but from the bullet wound, from his near suicide to keep her safe. She cried and cried until she had no tears left to give, until her body was limp, exhausted, laying across the side of the hospital bed, face resting on his hand, wet with her tears. Every so slightly, he squeezed back and it made her stomach flip-flop. She looked up at him, that same, half-conscious gaze on his face, like he didn’t know what the fuck was going on but he was relieved to see her. 

"Do you remember?" She asked in a grated voice. Her throat was strained was sobbing, every breath made her head throb more. She was so selfishly grateful for this moment, pure relief flooding every inch of her veins. They'd woken him up and he'd survived. She wouldn't live with his death on her hands. His responses were slow, like surfacing from beneath a pool of molasses. He furrowed a brow, trying to think, slowly shook his head, murmuring, "Not much." 

She nodded, "Yeah...that's normal. It'll come back." He was staring at her, suspended somewhere between consciousness and drug-induced sleep but she could tell he was fighting it. "You can sleep, if you want, I'll be here." He nodded, or tried to, it was just the tiniest little acknowledgement. She smiled, a foreign thing with them. But the least she could do was smile. She was fucking glad to see his face. 

He slept, and she watched, a hand on him at all times, listening to his heart-rate monitor, the steady sounds of life lulling her into sleep herself. She wasn't moving no matter what. She'd be here for months if that's what it took to get him back. She'd told him she couldn't lose him and she'd meant it, but she had lost him, and she'd left him. And she'd known deep down it was wrong but it had never been so crystal fucking clear as it was in this moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful look on his face as he slept. This time would be different. There was no going back. This time she'd be by his side and she'd never leave. 


End file.
